Breakthrough
by BurrSquee
Summary: Beth came to New York to be in Broadway. Instead, she finds herself rooming with a man named Daryl. Based on Emily Kinney's "Just Pretend" and "Morning Sex is for Lovers". No ZA AU.
1. Chapter 1

Beth had come to New York City as many people had done before. She wanted to break into the theater scene. She was a singer by trade, and had always wanted to be on Broadway. Unfortunately, when she had first moved to the city, she hadn't been able to find work. Instead, she had found herself working in a coffee shop, with most of her paycheck going towards the exorbitant rent she was paying, which always seemed to be going up.

Before Beth knew it, she was unable to afford her apartment and had to find somewhere cheaper to live. Easier said than done in this city. She scoured page after page in the newspapers and online, just trying to find something. This desperation found her commiserating at a bar with her friend Karen about finding somewhere, anywhere, to live.

"Do you have any problems living with men?" Karen asked, looking a little wary.

At this point, Beth decided that she'd live in the zoo if she had to, so men were nothing to worry about. It turned out Karen had a cousin, whose friend's, friend's, coworker needed a roommate. They had a two bedroom, loft apartment in Manhattan.

"That sounds way outside of my price range," Beth said, sipping at her overpriced drink.

"Here's the awesome part," said Karen. "It's rent controlled."

"What's the problem?" Beth asked; everything sounded too good to be true.

"Well, apparently he's a bit... surly."

"How surly is... surly?"

"Surly enough that he's looking for a roommate for something like seven hundred dollars a month."

At that magical price, Beth was certain that she could live with a troll if she had to. So Beth got the number of Karen's cousin's friend's friend's coworker, and gave him a call. It turned out that "surly" was a bit of an understatement.

* * *

Beth buzzed number 709 and waited, a little nervous after the terse phone call she'd had with Daryl Dixon. It hadn't gone very well. The intercom beeped and Daryl's voice answered.

"What?"

Beth pushed a strand of hair behind her ear before she pressed the intercom button again. "It's Beth Greene. We talked on the phone. I'm here to see the apartment." She hated how her voice squeaked a little at the end.

Without a response, the door let out a low buzz, and she pulled it open, heading up the seven flights of stairs to get to his apartment. Standing outside of door 709, Beth steeled herself and knocked. She needed a place to live, desperately, and if it really was as cheap as it sounded, she'd take anywhere she could put a bed.

The door jerked open, and a man with a grim expression peered down at her.. He had short brown hair and a matching goatee. He wore a slight frown, which hardened his lean face. The lines of his forehead appeared to be permanently set there, and they did nothing to endear her to his looks. But his eyes, she noted with surprise, had a flashing, blue-gray cast to them. Such beautiful eyes, she thought, for such a dour face.

"You're Beth?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, remembering herself.

"C'mon in," he said, moving back from the door.

She stepped through the door and was blown away by what she saw. It had a completely open floor plan, with a huge kitchen on the right and a large, open area for dining and entertainment on the left. The room was bright with natural light, coming from the many floor-to-ceiling windows. Her shoes clicked on the hardwood floors as she explored the room.

"This is the kitchen and livin' area," he grunted, gesturing.

"This place is fabulous," she said, looking around. She glanced at the bookcases that lined the walls, their shelves packed with books and movies. Her fingers grazed the rough wood of a bookcase as she went over to one of massive windows, and found that the apartment also came with a fabulous view of the city.

"How did you manage to find it?" she asked, turning around to look at him.

Daryl did nothing but grunt and shrug his shoulders, leaning against the island in the kitchen, watching her.

She turned back to the view, not letting his lack of conversation make her uncomfortable.

"Bathroom and the bedrooms are this way," he said, gesturing towards a hallway she hadn't noticed.

Moving from her place by the windows, she followed him down the hallway. He pointed out the bathroom first, which had a beautiful claw-footed tub. Beth could only imagine the baths she could take in that tub.

"This'd be the open room," he said, pointing towards the door across from the bathroom. She opened the door to reveal an empty room with windows on one wall. "My room is here," he said, pointing at the door at the end of the hall.

She looked around the room that would be hers. It was perfect.

"When can I move in?" she asked.

* * *

Beth had moved in the next weekend after seeing Daryl's apartment. She had sold most of her furniture and extra belongings, taking only a few boxes and some sparse furnishings. Thankfully she'd had a few buddies, including Karen, who helped her move her things in, because Daryl was nowhere to be seen.

After everything had been brought into the apartment, and the furniture set up, Karen flopped onto one of the leather couches in the living room, putting her feet up.

"Seven flights of stairs," Karen sighed.

"This place is worth it," said Beth

"I'd say," said Karen. "Awesome entertainment center, huge kitchen, amazing view. And for cheap! The only thing that sucks is all those stairs."

"At least I get a workout," said Beth meekly.

"Have you seen your infamous roommate again?" asked Karen.

"Not yet," said Beth. "But, I kinda hope my roommate stays MIA." Karen laughed as Beth handed her a glass of sweet tea.

After Karen had left, Beth was sitting down to eat her Thai takeout when Daryl walked through the door.

"Hi, Daryl," she said brightly from the table. He grunted as he took off his shoes.

"Are you hungry?" Beth asked. Without waiting for a reply, she rifled through the plethora of boxes in front of her. "I've got some spicy coconut soup, some fried rice, and some other stuff. You're welcome to anything-".

The door to Daryl's room slammed shut.

Beth sat there, a bit shocked. Soon, however, the shock wore off and she found herself miffed at his behavior. 'I was only trying to be nice,' she thought to herself as she began to eat. She hoped this wasn't an example of how their relationships as roommates would be.

There was a repeat performance for the next week. Every time Daryl came home, he headed to his room. Sometimes it was broken up by a trip to the fridge first to grab some leftovers. It was Thursday before she realized that he hadn't said a word to her since she had received the key from him last weekend.

On Friday, she headed out, desperate for human company outside of her job. She called Tara, a fellow actress she met while out at auditions, Meeting up at the local bar, the two gabbed and laughed, both commiserating on their inability to get more than bit parts in the theatrical world.

"So how's the new roommate?" Tara inquired, sipping her gin and tonic.

"It's rocky," Beth sighed.

"What's the problem?"

"I've never lived with someone who doesn't talk or even want to be in the same room with me. And I try, believe me I try. But he just ignores me. At the very best, I get a grunt."

"He sounds like a real SOB."

Beth laughed. Tara was nothing if not blunt. Her bluntness was what solidified their friendship. "Perhaps he is. I just hope it gets better."

"For your sake, I hope it does too. This is why I don't do men."

"Uh huh," Beth said, smiling. "Of course that's the reason."

Tara finished her drink, and stood up, shrugging on her jacket. "You know it," she laughed, holding out her fist, which Beth bumped.

"Good luck with the roomie," said Tara, heading to the door.

She knew she would need it.

Back at the apartment, Beth found Daryl watching something on the TV. Beth said nothing as she slipped out of her shoes and hung up her coat. As Daryl seemed to be engrossed in whatever he was watching, Beth decided to take a chance.

"What are you watching?" Beth asked.

Daryl turned and gave her a hostile look, his mouth forming a snarl.

"It's a TV," he said, giving her another look before turning back to the television.

"Alright then," she said, heading to her room.

"It's strange," Beth said, recounting her experience with Daryl that night to Maggie. "We just can't seem to get along."

"Give it time Bethy," her sister said. "You've just moved in. Things will change."

Things did, in fact, change. Instead of avoiding and ignoring each other, fights began to break out. It started with little comments and complaints; too many shoes by the front door, Beth taking up too much of the fridge, Daryl not cleaning his dishes.. Yet it hadn't stopped at snippy comments. No, things had begun to escalate to full blown arguments.

"Greene!"

Beth looked up from the book she had been reading, Daryl's voice called from outside her door. She sighed as she got off the bed, wondering what had pissed him off now. Beth opened her door to see Daryl standing outside the bathroom looking incredulously at it.

"What's your problem now, Daryl?"

"Knocked over your shit in the fuckin' tub. What the hell's all this in here for?" Daryl asked, gesturing, head wet from his recent shower.

Beth poked her head in, seeing the bottles he was talking about. "You mean my shampoo?"

"You need two bottles of shampoo in the shower?"

"Well, one of those is my conditioner. Some people like to take care of their hair."

Daryl sneered at the comment. "What 'bout those bottles there?"

"That's my soap. One for my body and one for my face. Not everyone uses bar soap for everything."

"Fine!" Daryl snapped, "but what 'bout all this? Do you need all of this here?" He opened the doors to the medicine cabinet.

"You mean the things I use to clean my teeth?"

"No! The rest of that shit in there!"

"God forbid we keep medicine in the medicine cabinet."

Daryl was very agitated by now. He gestured to the cabinet under the sink. "You gotta have all that shit under there?"

"Well, those are my tampons and pads. Generally those are used in the bathroom, but I could maybe make the kitchen work."

"I'm done!" yelled Daryl, storming off to his room and slamming the door behind him.

Beth smiled to herself, happy she was able to both keep her cool and piss off Daryl.

Beth 1, Daryl 0.

* * *

A week or so after the incident in the bathroom, Daryl was still not talking to her. It felt worse than before. But today, Beth didn't care. It had been a terrible two shifts at the coffee shop. There had never been any down time because two people called in sick, orders had been screwed up, and at least eight people had asked to talk to the manager. Beth walked into the house feeling haggared. She dropped her bag on the island before kicking her shoes off of her aching feet.

"Bag off the counter," Daryl grumbled from the living room as he was reading a book.

Beth said nothing as she grabbed some leftovers from the fridge.

"Don't you have ears Greene?"

"Just leave me alone, Daryl."

"Then get your bag off the counter."

"Jesus Christ! Just give me a minute, dammit." Beth snapped, grabbing her bag and heading to her room.

"The fuck is wrong with you?."

"You know what Daryl," Beth snarled, dropping her bag and turning back to him, brandishing her fork. "I've had a horrible day at work. And comin' home to you is just the cherry on top of my shit sundae. Just act like the jerk you normally are, and just leave me the hell alone!'

With that, she stomped off to her room, closing the door firmly behind her. She walked over to her bed, and flopped down on it, exhausted.

About an hour later, Beth awoke to a gentle knocked on her door.

"Go away Daryl," she groaned, flipping over onto her back.

The knock however didn't go away, but got stronger.

She pushed herself off of her bed, and headed to the door, ready to fight. With a flourish, she opened the door, but stopped when she saw no one. The kitchen and living area was dark, and Daryl was nowhere to be seen. She moved forward slightly, debating on seeking out Daryl, when her foot grazed something hard. Looking down, she saw a mug. Beth bent down and picked up the steaming mug; it was hot cocoa. She took a quick sip, finding it delicious. She smiled and closed the door.

The next day, Beth found Daryl having a cup of coffee in the kitchen, a newspaper in hand. She hesitated before putting her cocoa mug in the sink. She started to wash it, making an excuse to be around him. She was trying to steel herself.

"Thanks," Beth said, rinsing her cup. Daryl said nothing, but continued to read his newspaper. Beth didn't say anything as she grabbed a clean towel from the drawer and dried her coffee cup.

"I'll make dinner tonight," she said, putting the cup back into the cabinet. She stood there for a second looking at Daryl as he continued to read his paper, ignoring him.

"Well, I'm going off to work," she said, grabbing her bag where she'd left it on the island while washing her cup, and headed to get her shoes.

"Suit yourself."

Beth just smiled as she finished putting on her shoes and headed out the door to go to work.

* * *

"Hey, Greene."

Beth looked up from the book she was reading to see Daryl, standing in front of her.

"What's up?"

"I need your rent."

"Has it really been a month already?" Beth asked, surprised.

Daryl just grunted.

She placed her book on the credenza, and walked around the corner to her room. "Is a check alright?" Beth asked as she was rifling through her drawers.

"That's fine."

"We agreed on seven hundred, right?" she said, checkbook in hand.

"Yes,"

"Do you want it in the middle of the month like this every month?" Beth asked as she filled out the check for the appropriate amount, and handed the check to Daryl.

"Doesn't really matter to me."

"Really? When's the rent due?"

"Rent's due on the first of the month, but it doesn't really matter to me when you pay me back."

Beth was surprised. She knew she didn't have that kind of money laying around, especially not knowing when she'd get part of it back. She looked around the apartment, looking at the expensive furniture and fixtures.

"Daryl, can I ask you a question?"

Daryl stiffened, pausing in putting her check in his wallet. "I guess."

"You seem to be doing pretty well for yourself..."

"Yeah? So what?"

"You don't seem to need a roommate, Daryl. Why did you want one?"

Daryl looked uneasy, his arms crossed. "I-I've never known how to live rich," Daryl didn't look at Beth.. "I've always had to work hard for everything in life. When you have an extra room, you rent it out..."

"Makes sense," Beth said, slipping her checkbook into her back pocket. "You make the best of what life has to give you."

Daryl looked at her with a fixed look, as though he was trying to see any ulterior motives. She just shrugged her shoulders, smiled, and walked past him towards the kitchen.

"Is it my turn to cook dinner?" Beth asked

"It's Friday," Daryl said, putting her check into his wallet. "We should get take-out instead."

Beth paused, turning around."What did you have in mind?"

"You like Indian?"

* * *

Beth came home, her arms full of bags of groceries. This was a special day! It was Derby day! Every year, since she could remember, Mama would make burgoo and derby pie, Daddy would have a mint julep, and the whole family would watch the Kentucky Derby.

It had started with her daddy. When he was a younger man, Hershel Greene was an official vet for the Kentucky Derby, a great honor for anyone in the profession. When he finished his round, he returned to Georgia, but horse fever followed. He taught Beth to ride, and even got her a horse on her tenth birthday. She carried his love of horses with her, even in New York. She had been very sad when she'd missed the Derby last year, but this year, she was going to make up for it.

Beth was busy cooking when Daryl came home. He looked over at the TV, which was showing the pre-race commentary, to the island, which had pies and a pitcher with green leaves at the bottom of it.

"What's goin' on Greene?" Daryl asked, cautiously.

"It's Derby day!" Beth exclaimed.

"What the hell is that?"

"The Derby? The Kentucky Derby?"

"Uh-huh, What is all this?" Daryl gestured to the food.

"It's Derby food. There's burgoo, Derby pie, and mint juleps!"

Daryl said nothing, giving her an exasperated look.

"Burgoo is a type of meat stew. Derby pie is a chocolate chip pecan pie, and mint julep is mint and bourbon."

"I knew what the drink was," Daryl mumbled.

"Well, I've got lots of food, so please feel free to help yourself. And have a drink."

Daryl smirked, and walked over to the credenza, opening a cabinet door.

"If I'm going to drink anything, it's going to be straight bourbon," Daryl said, shaking a bottle.

"You're going to watch with me?" Beth asked, dishing up two bowls of stew.

"I guess," he shrugged, "I've got nothin' better to do."

After grabbing food and drinks, they spent the evening watching the race coverage. Beth gleefully answered Daryl's few questions and chatted away about the logistics and history behind the race, the same way her daddy did. It wasn't the same as home, but it felt wonderful to keep up the family tradition. She sent a quick text to Maggie:

 _I can't believe I'm watching the Derby with Daryl._

 _See. Things have gotten better. Daddy sends his love._

The race lasted two minutes. It always amazed Beth at the power these animals exhibited. Daryl seemed a little confused.

"Did we really watch two hours for this?"

"My daddy probably watched all of the coverage," Beth said, gathering up the dishes on the coffee table.

"You're family is not normal."

"Everyone has their quirks," Beth smiled, placing the dishes in the sink. "Do you want pie?"

* * *

Two months in, Daryl and Beth had established a routine. One would cook, and the other would clean up the dishes. Except on Fridays, when they ordered take-out. They were even becoming friends of sorts, although Daryl still didn't talk much. But, he was beginning to open up to her more, both personally and with the apartment.

"Hey, Daryl?" Beth asked, leaning out of her bedroom. Daryl was sitting at the dining room table, folders and papers strewn around him.

"Mmm?" He murmured, looking through the papers around him.

"You mind if I borrow a book? I'm all out of things to read."

"Sure," he said, gesturing. "They're all back there."

Beth walked to the bookshelves by the windows. The shelves were filled with classics, murder mysteries, comedies, and even a few Zane Greys. Beth grabbed a paperback, and flipped it over, reading the blurb. She was walking back to her room when she noticed a shelf in the back. It was filled with folders and binders, but it had a shelf completely filled with movies.

"What's this?" Beth asked, crouching to see the titles. "'Hello Dolly', 'South Pacific', 'The King and I'; these are all musicals."

Daryl looked up from his papers."Those are for work,"

"I never asked," she said, putting the movies back, "what do you actually do for work?"

"I work in Broadway as a technical director."

"Really?" Beth said, surprised. "And these are?"

"I've worked on all of those musicals."

"All of them? There must be at least thirty."

"Yeah, and I've done some of those multiple times. I've been in the business over ten years."

"That's awesome," Beth said, amazed.

"It's nothin' really," Daryl said, looking flustered.

"I'd love to do a show on Broadway," Beth sighed, leaning back on the couch cushions. "I act and sing. I've done a few bit parts here and there, but nothing major. Nothing that I could live off of. Hence the job at the coffee shop."

"It's a hard business,"

"My favorites are the musicals. Even when you don't have a big part, the music and costumes just blow me away."

"They're my favorite, too."

"Really?" Beth asked, surprised.

"There's always somethin' that needs to be made, fixed, or re-done. It's busy and stressful. But when it all comes together, it's very satisfying'."

"You want to watch one? It's early on a Monday night. You have anything to do?"

Daryl shook his head.

"Well then, let's watch a musical." Before Daryl could say anything, Beth had jumped up from the couch and made her way to his collection of musicals.

It soon became a tradition to watch musicals every Monday.

* * *

Beth was lounging in the bath when she heard the door bang open. Startled, she got out of the shower and tied her robe around her. With a hairbrush in hand, she made her way down the hall and peeked around the corner. It was Daryl sitting in a dining room chair, one boot on.

"What the hell, Daryl?" Beth exclaimed, running a hand through her wet hair.

"What were you goin' to do? Beat me with that brush?" Daryl groaned, trying to untie his boot.

"What's wrong with you?" Beth asked, slipping the brush into her pocket.

"I twisted my ankle at work. Now I can't get my boot off."

"Stop it," Beth snapped, coming over and bending down. She took his injured foot gently and put it on her legs. She carefully unlaced his boot, so she could slip his swollen foot and ankle out.

"Your foot's twice it's normal size Daryl. Why didn't you stop when you hurt it?"

"There was work to do," Daryl shrugged.

"Well, let me help you get to somewhere more comfortable."

"I don't need your help, Beth."

"Let's see you walk on the foot then,"

Daryl got up from his chair, balancing on his uninjured foot. He tried to take a step, stumbling. Beth wrapped an arm under his shoulder, helping him to stay up.

"Let's just get you to the couch." Beth said.

After settling Daryl on the couch, Beth went into doctor mode. She propped Daryl's injured foot on some pillows on the coffee table, despite complaints from her patient.

"My daddy taught me how to take care of injuries." Beth said, matter-of-factly. "You have to follow R.I.C.E."

"That does rice have to do with anything?"

"Rest. Ice. Compression. Elevation. R.I.C.E. Now that your foot is elevated, I'll go get you some ice." She came back with a bag of frozen peas. "Since your sock is still on, we'll just lay these around your ankle and wait for the swelling to go down. Ten minutes on, ten minutes off. Then, before we get you in bed, we'll wrap your foot."

"You seem to have done this a few times,"

Beth smirked. "I've had a few injuries myself. It happens when you grow up."

"I guess so," Daryl said, a dark look crossing his features.

"How'd that happen anyway?" Beth asked, trying to distract.

"Some fool left a pile of cords where they shouldn't have. Fuckers must've weighed two hundred pounds." Daryl spat. He wasn't happy, but the look was gone.

"Well, you can tell me more after I change. I want to get out of this robe."

They spent the rest of the evening on the couch, Beth attending to her grumpy patient. After a few hours of icing, Beth wrapped Daryl's foot and helped him to bed.

"Are you sure you don't want any painkillers?" Beth asked, as Daryl plopped onto his bed.

"I've had worse."

"Well, just give a holler if you need anything," Beth said, as she turned to leave.

"Hey, Beth?" Daryl said softly.

"Hmm?" Beth hummed, turning to face him.

Daryl didn't look at her, instead finding the floor to be fascinating. Just as Beth was turning to leave, sure he wasn't going to say anything, she heard him..

"Thanks" he said, looking embarrassed.

"Any time Daryl," Beth said, flashing him a smile. "Let's avoid a repeat performance though."

* * *

"You cleaned us out again Beth," Karen said, leaning against the island. "Like you do every time."

"You're a damn card shark," Tara said.

"I was taught well," Beth smiled.

"I'm getting my money back next time," Tara said, pointing her finger at Beth.

"I'm looking forward to it," Beth laughed, "And thanks guys, for agreeing to have it here this week. I love hosting."

"It was probably best that your live-in bear was gone for the evening," Tara murmured.

"He's not that bad." Beth retorted..

"How long has it been now? Since you moved in?" Karen asked.

"About four months now. It's going pretty well."

"You say this only because he's not here," Tara quipped.

As she said this, they heard keys turning the lock. The three women started as Daryl walked into the door. He stopped, the door hanging open, as he took in the guilty faces of the women standing in the kitchen.

"Hey, Daryl," Beth said, her voice sounding more shrill than normal.

"What's goin' on here?" Daryl asked.

"We were just leaving," Karen said, grabbing Tara's arm. "Com'on Tara."

"Bye Beth," Tara said, as she was steered out of the apartment

When the door was closed, the two just stood there. Beth felt guilty for not telling Daryl earlier. His space was very important to him.

"I should have asked first," Beth apologized, her hands clasped in front of her.

"Don't worry 'bout it," he said, toeing off his boots. "What were they over for anyway?"

"We were playing poker," Beth said, going over to the dining room table. It had poker chips and the last hand of cards strewn on it. "I should clean this up."

"Poker?" Daryl asked, surprised.

"Are you surprised women play poker?" Beth asked, putting the cards into their sleeve.

"I'm surprised you play poker."

"Why's that?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You just don't seem like the poker type to me. Canasta seems more like it"

"I'm great at poker." Beth said, ignoring his taunt.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Daryl chuckled.

"You don't believe me?" Beth scoffed.

"I'm sure you're great with your girlfriends."

"I bet I could beat you," she challenged.

"I doubt it."

"Why don't you put your money where your mouth is Daryl," snapped Beth. She put fifty dollars into a box, and began putting chips in front of her.

"You really want to do this Beth?"

"Sit down Daryl."

Daryl went into his wallet and pulled out fifty, throwing it into the box with Beth's. "What're they worth?"

"White are fifty cents, red are a dollar, and blues are five."

"What are we playin'?"

"Five card draw."

Daryl cut the deck and Beth began dealing the cards.

"Get ready to lose Daryl"

"I don't plan to."

Two hours later, things were not going as Daryl has expected.

"I've got you this time," Daryl said. He laid down his cards with a flourish. "Flush."

"Sorry Daryl," Beth said with a smirk."Full house."

"Dammit girl."

"I warned you."

"You already said that." Daryl grumbled, taking a sip of the whisky he had poured."How'd you get so good?"

"My daddy taught us."

"Who's us?" Daryl asked.

Beth just hummed as she gathered her pot.

Daryl was silent, apparently contemplating something, shuffling the cards idly.

"One more hand,"

"No Daryl, it's midnight. I'm going to bed."

"Runnin' away?"

"With two hundred of your dollars."

"How much have you racked in tonight?"

"Enough," she said, evading his question.

"You're gettin' take-out this week."

Beth smiled, and heading to her bedroom. "Thanks for the money, Daryl," Beth said.

"Thanks for the game, brat."

* * *

"What do you want to watch tonight?" Beth asked as she finished loading the dishwasher.

"Your choice," Daryl said, grabbing two big bowls from the cabinet. "I'm makin' popcorn."

"You okay with 'Seven Brides'?"

"Sure. Seen it a million times."

"Of course you have. A musical about seven backwoodsmen. Goes with the decor."

"If you keep crackin' jokes then I'll just keep the popcorn for myself."

"Alright, alright," Beth said, holding up her hands in surrender.

Beth grabbed the movie from the shelf and popped it into player. As the menu appeared, she went and settled herself on her couch. The two of them had split the couches, Daryl taking the long couch and Beth taking the loveseat. She wrapped a blanket around herself, and leaned against a couch arm, propping her feet on the other side.

"Here," Daryl said, putting the bowl of popcorn on her stomach. "Now don't be gettin' popcorn everywhere like last time."

"Well, as I remember, you were the one tossing it around last Monday."

Daryl grumbled as he played the movie, lounging on the couch.

Brass instruments blared the intro music as the opening credits rolled. 'Seven Brides for Seven Brothers" was a musical about Milly (Jane Powell), a spunky young woman, marrying the backwoods farmer Adam Pontiepee (Howard Keel). When they get back to Adam's farm, Milly was in for a surprise. He has six brothers! The rest of the musical is about the antics of the brothers and their attempts at finding wives. Filled with mayhem and shenanigans, it was one of Beth's favorite musicals.

 _"There was no F name in the bible, so Ma named him Frankincense, 'cause he smelled so sweet."_

"I'd fight too if I'd been named that," growled Daryl.

"Could you imagine having to fight six brothers?" Beth asked.

"I've got one and that's enough for me."

"I didn't know you had a brother."

"Yup, Merle. He's my older brother."

"I have an older brother too. Shawn. I couldn't imagine having six of him."

"You'd have'em wrapped 'round your little finger."

They kept watching the musical, Beth humming along, and even Daryl joining in under his breath, although he'd never admit it. Daryl would mention some of the logistics of a shot, or how he'd change something if he'd have to adapt it for the stage. Both would make comments, although Daryl's had more snark than Beth's, usually.

"Maybe that's how I'll get a girl," Daryls said, as the brothers were down in town kidnapping women. "I'll steal her."

Beth gave him a look, before throwing some popcorn at him.

"Just a thought," Daryl said, smiling as he brushed popcorn off of himself.

Just as the movie ended, after everything had been resolved, it was Beth's turn for some snark.

"So that's how you get a man," Beth said, smiling over at Daryl. She was rewarded with handful of popcorn falling on her face.

* * *

"Alright Tara. I just got home, so I'll talk to you later. And don't worry about me. I'll be fine," Beth hung up her phone as she walked into the apartment many Mondays later. She and Tara had tried out for a new musical, and Tara got a part. Beth, unfortunately, didn't even get a callback. Daryl was stirring something in a pot when she walked in. Beth waved at him as she continued speaking.

Beth slipped her phone into her pocket and toed off her shoes. She was okay, or at least that's what she told herself. She wasn't getting any work right now, not even bit work. At this rate she was never going to make it in this business.

"Hope your day's been better than mine," Beth said, plastering a smile on her face.

"Mmm?" asked Daryl.

"Yeah. I missed out on a part I was hoping for. But it'll be okay. Next time. There's always next time."

"When was the last time you worked?"

"Oh, I don't know. Probably two or three months ago."

Daryl was quiet as he dished up a casserole type dish onto plates and handed one to Beth.

"So what are you picking tonight?" Beth asked, putting a forkful of casserole into her mouth.

Daryl stared at Beth for a second, his eyes hard and searching. Before Beth could say anything, he broke his gaze, looking down at his food.

"I was thinkin' we could do 'Once Upon a Mattress' tonight," Daryl mumbled.

"Oh good," Beth said smiling, "I like that one a lot."

Beth woke the next day, excited for her day off. She was just about to leave for errands when she saw a note on the island. It was a few pages of lines and sheet music. It read:

 _Here's material for an audition for "Once Upon a Mattress". It's at 2:30. Have some music prepared. -D_

Beth was stunned for a second, before she grabbed up the papers and began to read through them quickly. Looking at the address, she figured she'd need about forty-five minutes to get there. It was only 9:30. She had a few hours to prepare. Quickly, Beth began to run over the songs that would work. She was determined to get this job.

Five hours later, Beth walked onstage. In the seats were a half dozen people, with one person standing out to her. She was an older woman, with short grey hair, looking down at a clipboard in front of her.

"Don't be shy," the woman said, looking up at Beth.

Beth walked a little closer as an assistant handed, what Beth assumed was the director, Beth's resume.

"You must be Daryl's roommate, Beth," the director said, looking over the paperwork.

"Yes, that's me. I'm Beth Greene," Beth said, trying to sound confident.

"He's a good guy. I've known the man for years." She started scribbling some notes down on her clipboard."He must be a beast to live with though, as testy as he is. But he was my best tech man before he went on to bigger and better things."

Beth stood there as the director continued to ramble. There wasn't much she could say. All Beth knew was that she wanted to give Daryl the biggest hug when she got home.

"Daryl says you have a good voice," she said. "Who will you be auditioning for?"

"I'm auditioning for Lady Larken."

"Please sing what you have prepared."

After the audition, Beth felt energized. What had happened? She seemed to have impressed the director, Carol, because Carol had smiled, complimented her on her "beautiful voice", and told her that Beth would hear about callbacks by the end of the week. And it was all thanks to Daryl. Beth didn't know how she would thank him, but she had to do something big.

Later that night, Beth came home with bags of Cuban food, surprising Daryl.

"It isn't Friday, not that I'm complain'," said Daryl, taking a bite of a fried plantain.

"It's celebration. For a well done audition."

A week later, she got a call back. She auditioned again, singing a piece from the show. She ended up being cast as a lady-in-waiting, but was understudy to Lady Larken. It was her biggest piece yet. She was very excited! To celebrate, she brought home Moroccan.

The next six weeks flew by. She had rehearsals nearly every evening. On days she worked at the coffee shop, Beth would be away from home for over eighteen hours. But she had so much to learn. She had dance steps for both her lady-in-waiting and Lady Larken, along with whatever scenes they put her in as an extra. There were songs to learn, lines to memorize, and costumes to be fitted for. Before Beth could blink, they were in week of dress rehearsals, with the opening show starting that Friday.

Beth was just walking into the theater when Carol came running up to her.

"Beth! Beth! Thank God you're here! Mary called in. She can't perform tonight. You're going onstage."

Beth had no time to say a thing before she was whisked back stage to be put into make and costumes. The stage manager, Sasha, gathered all the actors for a quick pep-talk, saying how she'd never seen such a prepared group and she just knew that everyone would be fantastic. Beth barely heard her. Before she knew it, they had fifteen minutes before showtime, and she was nervous. Very nervous. The pep-talk had done nothing to settle her nerves. She'd never had a part this big; she had four major songs to perform. She was wringing her hands, staring ahead. She didn't hear him approach.

"Beth," Daryl said softly.

Beth turned around, startled. "Daryl!" she gasped. "What are you doing back here?"

"I heard from Carol that you were goin' on. I wanted to see how you were doin'."

"I-I'm fine."

"You know your songs?"

"Yes"

"You know your lines?"

"Yes."

"Then you are fine. There's nothin' to be nervous for."

Beth still didn't feel fine, and is must have shown on her face. Daryl hesitated for a second before placing a tentative hand lightly on her shoulder.

"I'm serious Beth. You don't have anything' to worry 'bout."

Beth released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Thanks Daryl."

"I'll be out there. 'Member that if you get nervous again."

He removed his hand, and left the backstage area. Beth could almost feel his hand on her shoulder, reassuring her. Beth didn't know why, but it meant a lot to her to know that Daryl believed in her.

"Three minutes," Sasha said, grabbing the attention of all the actors. "Everyone in their places."

Beth joined everyone onstage, ready to begin.

* * *

One great show and one year later, Beth was a Broadway star. She had gone from playing small bit pieces in little shows, to secondary characters in off-Broadway productions, to main characters on Broadway. Now, she'd finally gotten a lead role, as Ariel in "The Little Mermaid". She was living the dream she's had as a little girl.

It was an amazing feeling, singing the songs she loved, playing a character she loved, and all on wheels. It was one of the many things that Daryl had developed to make it appear like the actors were moving through the water. It was fantastic to work with Daryl, especially helping him to come up with ideas. It had been Beth who had suggested wheels, but Daryl had been the one to decide on a type of roller shoe, one that had the wheel in the heel. When you added the smooth motions with in the tails that were attached behind them and the flowing fabric that hid their legs, you could almost swear the actors were actually swimming. Dance moves were hard though, but Beth picked it up quickly enough. She'd had help from the assistant choreographer.

His name was Zach.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Early sun seeped through the blinds, leaving streaks of light on the bed. Under the rumpled covers, a small mound stirred. It flipped, turning towards the windows, yellow hair strewn on the pillow. With the sun in her face, Beth moaned and brought an arm up to block the light. It was too damn early for sun. But the damage had been done. She blinked, her lids feeling heavy and sticky. Beth rubbed her mouth, swallowing against the cotton on her tongue. She closed her eyes against the brightness of her room, and her hand fumbled on her nightstand for her phone. Opening one eye, she checked the time on her phone.

7:58 am

She sighed, turning over and pulling the covers high over her head. She and Zach had only gotten home four hours ago. They had spent that Friday night drinking wine with friends, and ended up stumbling to her apartment after the bars had closed. With sloppy hands shoving and pulling at clothing, the two of them had fallen into bed, drunkenly enjoying each other's bodies. Afterwards, he had murmured those sweet, soft words that were his usual, and she fell asleep wrapped in a cocoon of warmth.

She groaned and stretched her arm out towards the other side of her bed. Instead of finding Zach, she found a cold, vacated bed. She lifted herself on her elbows and looked over at the empty side of the bed. The blankets had been pushed back, so she knew he had been there.

She grabbed her phone again, and noticed that she had an unread text message:

 _Sorry! Had an early appointment. You know how hard it is to nail these people down. Wish I could have stayed in bed with you babe._

Checking the timestamp, Zach had sent the text at 6:42 AM. How did the world even exist that early in the morning?

Her fingers typed out a quick reply, before she placed the phone back on her nightstand.

 _I wish you could have too. Good luck! xx_

She flipped over and flopped onto her back. Looking up at the ceiling, she wondered at how their relationship had changed. Hadn't it started out differently? How long had they been doing this? Where one of them had to leave so early in the morning?

They'd been "dating" for six months now, and had started out like every other relationship she'd been in since college. It started out fun, fresh, and exciting. They were always together, going out to concerts, museums, movies, clubs, whatever seemed to be happening in town. They'd come back to his place, and have some awesome sex. Afterwards, they'd talk into all hours of the morning, languidly touching and tracing each other's bodies. Always in contact. When they finally woke up, they would spend their mornings making breakfast, sharing small kisses and touches. Especially on the weekends when they seemed to have all the time in the world. They seemed to chat and text constantly, her phone always buzzing with this or that.

Although they hadn't discussed it, or used those definitions for each other, she felt that they were dating. She felt that they'd had a deep connection and a great start. She couldn't help having little daydreams about him. She could even imagine him meeting her parents. They would love him.

But then things seemed to have changed, subtly at first. They stopped seeing each other during the week. This was bound to happen, with Beth and Zach working different shows and having different schedules. But then Zach was had started to become busier and busier during the weekends too, which had cut into their time together. Cut it right down to Friday nights. She could maybe get a quick cup of coffee before he kissed her and pushed her gently out of his apartment Saturday morning, spouting something about this or that commitment. But he'd always say that he'd rather be with her. That had to be some comfort, right?

Recently, they hadn't even been spending time in his apartment anymore; no time to clean, he'd say. That left her place. They'd go out to a bar or a club on Friday night, and have too many drinks, before stumbling up the seven flights of stairs to her door. By the next morning, he would be gone, leaving her a goodbye text or voicemail. They still called and texted one another during the week, but less frequently than before. Beth tried to chalk it up to a little cooling in their relationship and his ever busy schedule, which he detailed greatly during his calls. But now she was beginning to wonder.

What were they doing?

She sighed as she flipped herself over again, pondering the successful relationships she had seen in her life. Her sister Maggie had a man named Glenn. They had been together for quite awhile, almost two years now. Despite the time, you could see the love in their eyes. There was no cooling there. When she caught one of them gazing at the other, she could see the pure adoration there, as though no one else on the world existed. And maybe no one else did, in those moments. In those moments their entire world revolved around the other.

Her parents had similar moments too, although more subtle. After thirty-five years of marriage, Hershel and Annette Greene were still very much in love. If you knew where to look. It was there in a glance over a book or newspaper, a touching of hands when they passed a dish at the table, or the simply joy they got sitting on the porch together. There was always a softness and sweetness that they shared only with each other. And there was a playfulness, too. Like the way Daddy would always try sneak up and put a cold hand on Mama's neck during the winter, and she would shriek and laugh. There was love there.

She wondered if she had that with Zach. Not love necessarily, but that look where her whole world was focused on him. Just for a moment. She did get a touch of butterflies when she thought of him. She even had them when she was with him sometimes. She felt her face light up around him, and would blush when he said his sweet words. Was that something like what her parents shared? Was it like what Glenn and Maggie shared?

Beth couldn't help but grimace, remembering a time when she had mistakenly agreed to go camping with Maggie and Glenn, during the beginning of their relationship. They had decided to go rafting in Pennsylvania on the Youghiogheny River. It had been on Glenn's suggestion, a place he'd gone as a boy. It had been a lot of fun. What had not been fun had been some of the nights and mornings, especially with how randy her sister and new boyfriend were. The two had brought a four-man tent, big enough for the three of them with extra space. Thankfully, Beth had packed an extra tent with her, at her mother's sage suggestion. It seemed every night, and every morning too, Beth would have to throw something over her head to block out the noise. She hadn't wanted to think of her sister in that way. At that time in her life, she hadn't wanted to think about anyone in that way. Yet when they'd come out of the tent with hair tousled and glowing smiles, she couldn't help it.

It had been awkward as hell to listen to, especially when Beth had figured out what it was, but it was also oddly sweet. In a creepy, your-sister-is-having-sex-ten-feet-from-you kind of way, but still sweet.

She and Zach had never had morning sex. Now, they never seemed to have the time, with one of them always running away early in the morning. And when they had had the time, the relationship had been too new, too awkward. At least, Beth had felt that way. It was kind of sad, though, to not have those times of tenderness and pleasure in the morning.

With a sigh, Beth rolled over and sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes. She was awake. Hungover, but awake, and she might as well make something of her day. She pushed her bare feet out of bed, and placed them on the cold, hard floor. This was one of the problems with hardwood floors. They were cold and unforgiving in the morning. She shrugged into a t-shirt and pulled up a pair of shorts then padded her way into the bathroom. A nice, hot shower was just what she needed to feel human.

After a long shower, she wrapped a fluffy towel around herself and headed back into her room to get changed. The sun had gotten higher, casting shadows onto her dark green wall. She changed into something comfy and headed into the kitchen. Her objective? Caffeine and carbs.

She started the coffee maker, thankful that she had set it last night before she had gone out to meet Zach. A few minutes later, the smell of coffee had infiltrated the apartment. She knew if Daryl were home, the smell of coffee would soon bring him out. Her eyes flitted to the door, noting the complete lack of boots. Nope, probably wasn't home. No Daryl meant more coffee for her. She poured herself a cup, and after taking a life-giving sip, she began raiding the fridge.

There was leftover Chinese food from their weekly take-out. Deciding against actually cooking breakfast, she grabbed a couple of boxes out of the fridge. Cold chinese food was what she needed to fight the hangover that threatened to consume her. And Advil. She grabbed a few pills from the bottle they kept in the kitchen specifically for this reasons, and popped them into her mouth followed by a chaser of black coffee.

Just as she was about to dig into the cold Chinese food, she heard the door open, and Daryl walked in. 'He must have been out all night,' Beth thought, looking over at the door. He looked like he'd gone out on the town last night, wearing an uncustomary navy button down with his black leather jacket. His hair was disheveled from his helmet, having probably taken the motorcycle last night. Or, Beth mused, it could have been from his own nightly activities. No morning sex for Daryl either.

"Why's the door unlocked?" he grumbled, as he toed off his boots, not bothering to untie them.

"Zach left early this morning, before I got up," she said, grabbing a mug and filling it with coffee. She passed the cup over to Daryl, who took a grateful gulp. "I guess I forgot to lock the door after him."

"I don't like the door unlocked, 'specially when I'm not here," he said, gulping down more coffee.

"I know," Beth said quickly. "Sorry 'bout that."

Daryl gave Beth a look that told her it wasn't her who should be apologizing. "That boy should stop leaving so early," he said, leaning against the counter, investigating the boxes of Chinese.

"Or," Beth said, gesturing with her coffee cup, "he should get a key."

Daryl just grunted at that, walking around the island to grab a fork. Beth knew that Daryl didn't want Zach to have a key. He was particular about who had access to his private area.

It was one of those things she liked about Daryl. He seemed to have a code about him. There were things you just did, like locking doors and feeding roommates. Would he have left someone sleeping in their bed, slinking off into the day? Because, as Beth sat here with her dwindling coffee and forgotten Chinese, that was what it felt like Zach was doing. Slinking away. It felt wrong to characterize it like that, but it didn't bring up good feelings for Beth ethier. She almost felt used. It almost made her want to cry.

"Is there somethin' wrong with my face?" Daryl asked, as he dug into the leftovers.

"What?" Beth asked, drawn back from her thoughts.

"You were staring," he said, words slightly distorted by the food in his mouth.

Beth just made a noncommittal noise, hiding her face by taking another sip.

'No,' she thought, 'Daryl wouldn't do that.' But then she stopped. Here he was, in the kitchen, after a night out. Just like she was, and there was no Zach around. Could he have just abandoned someone in their bed? She couldn't remember if he was actually dating anyone, but that didn't mean he didn't sleep with someone. He could just be screwing around. Maybe that's what you did when you screwed around. Maybe that was what was happening to her.

"I—" Beth asked, her voice dropping after the first word. "Is it normal, Daryl?" Beth asked quietly, cradling her cup of coffee.

"Is what normal?" he asked, getting ready to dig into the Chinese food.

"Is it normal for someone to leave so early if they're dating? Or is it something you do when you're just screwing around?"

Daryl stopped, his fork hovering above the cold lo mein. He looked up at her. His gaze was hard, and unwavering, as he stared into Beth's eyes. Beth had been living with Daryl for a long time, almost two years now. In that time, she had gotten many of his looks, and had learned to interpret them properly. She was like the David Attenborough of Daryl Dixon. But this look, she had never seen before.

"Daryl?" she asked quietly, not looking away from him. They stayed that way for a while longer, as though he was trying to tell her something. Eventually, with a quiet sigh, he broke eye contact with her.

"C'mon," he said, beginning to close the tops of the take-out boxes. "We're leavin'."

"Leaving?" Beth asked in surprise.

"Yeah," he said, putting the food into the fridge. He drained the last of his coffee, like a shot, and put the mug down with a bang. "I can't have this fuckin' conversation over cold Chinese. We're goin' to breakfast."

"O-okay,"Beth, said quickly draining her coffee and putting the two empty mugs into the sink. She headed into her room, and grabbed her coat, keys, and wallet. She was turning to leave when she realized she didn't have her phone. Picking it up from the nightstand, she checked for any messages. No new texts from Zach.

"Let's go, Beth!" Daryl shouted from the entryway.

"I'm comin'!" she called back, putting the phone into her pocket.

She saw Daryl standing there, shoes on, ready to go. She put on her shoes as he held the door open for her. She slipped out as he closed the door, locking it behind them.

* * *

And that's how they found themselves up in Midtown, at Evergreen Diner at nine in the morning. They didn't talk much in the cab as they traveled there, and they didn't talk much as they waited for a table to open. They had come during the breakfast rush. But it was usually worth it. Especially for a breakfast like Mama made in Georgia. At least, this was Beth's opinion. And so they sat there, with their meals in front of them, eating quietly. Beth was halfway done, finally feeling like human again, when she finally confronted Daryl on his silence.

"What did you want to talk about Daryl, that we couldn't in our kitchen?"

Daryl said nothing as he scooped the rest of his biscuits and gravy into his mouth. Beth simply waited while he wiped his mouth on a napkin, and his fingers on his jeans. Afterward he sighed, straightening his spine as though steeling himself for a battle and then looked at her. He stared for awhile, probably figuring out what words to use. Beth noticed that during certain conversations, it took him time to find the right words. Conversations like his home in Georgia and his brother; things close to the heart.

"I can't speak for normal," he finally said, continuing the conversation from earlier. "I can't say I really know what normal is. I know that I've never been 'normal'. But is it right? I don't think so. What he's doing isn't right, not by you."

"Is that why you don't want him to have a key?" Beth asked.

"I don't want anyone to have a key," Daryl snorted. "You know I'm very protective of my home and space. You live there, so I guess that includes you."

"It's my space too, right?" Beth asked.

Daryl didn't say anything, but stiffly nodded his head once.

"Then, do you trust my opinion about who should have a key?"

"Look Beth," he sighed. "It's not about me trustin' or not trustin' you. I just don't know this kid. Outside of seein' him work at a few shows, the only thing about him is that he wears overpriced shoes and he leaves at ungodly hours. What is there to trust?"

"I suppose you're right," Beth smiled. "Would you like to meet him?"

"I don't know," Daryl grumbled. "I mean, if you really wanted me to I would. But, I don't know, there's something there I don't really like."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothin' really," Daryl said, taking a glug of coffee. "It's just a feelin'."

"What do yo-" Beth started.

"Beth," Daryl said, interrupting. "I'm not one to tell you how to live your life, and I don't want to have any say in your love life. I've known you for a few years now, and I know you've got a good head on your shoulders. Listen to it, and what your gut is sayin'. If it doesn't feel right, then you listen to that feelin'. If it feels right, then don't listen to what an old man has to say about it."

"You're not old, Daryl," Beth muttered.

"Regardless," Daryl said, guesting with his coffee cup. "You listen to you. You know this situation better than I'll ever. Just... listen to yourself."

Daryl just looked down into his coffee cup and, if Beth didn't know better, she'd say he was blushing.

"One more thing, Daryl."

"What?"

"Where were you last night?"

"What's that got to do with this?" Daryl asked, eyebrows raised.

"Please?"

"I was at a poker game," Daryl sighed. "I'd had a little too much to drink, and instead of smearin' my head on the pavement, I crashed on a couch."

"Mmm," Beth hummed, sipping her coffee.

No, Daryl wouldn't have left her this morning. He was a different kind of man.


End file.
